Sharp Dressed Man
by FallenAngel218
Summary: A late night date turns terribly wrong for Face, and soon he and Hannibal are running from a dangerous man from their past, who won't stop until they are dead. Episode tag to "Hot Styles."
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Face checked his reflection as he straightened his tie. He'd been looking forward to this date with Rhonda all day, and he wanted to look his very best. He had made reservations at LaRue, and he'd been guaranteed by the owner that a bottle of champagne would be waiting for them, on ice.

He met Rhonda about a month ago, and the relationship was going very well. He could even say that he was beginning to really fall for her. He hadn't fallen for a woman so hard since Leslie Becktall. Maybe it was finally time that he settle down. Maybe Rhonda was it.

"We're on the run, Lieutenant, we're all each other has right now."

Hannibal's words continued to echo in his mind, long after Rena had left. He wished he could just run away and settle somewhere else, to just live his life again. Maybe Rhonda would be the woman to help him make such a decision.

Satisfied that his hair and tie were perfect, he put on his suit jacket and left his condo. He whistled as he rode the elevator down to the parking garage, and hummed as he jumped into the 'Vette and sped off toward Rhonda's apartment to pick her up.

Face arrived at Rhonda's brownstone apartment building ten minutes ahead of schedule. He got out and went up to the main door. He rang her bell, and she rang him up without a word into the speaker. He pulled open the door and headed up to her floor. As he raised his hand to knock, he heard the click of her lock, and she opened the door. She was dressed in a beautiful, shimmering navy blue dress, low cut.

"You look simply gorgeous, Rhonda. Are you ready to go?"

"Almost, Templeton. Could you come in and help me with my necklace?"

He smiled and followed her inside. Before Face knew what was happening, the door was slammed closed behind him, and he was slammed up against it by a large man, and held there by his neck.

"What the hell is going on!" he managed to squeak out as the man's large hand constricted his throat.

"I'm so sorry, Templeton. I didn't want to do it..." Rhonda started. She fell silent as two other men came out of the kitchen and stopped on either side of her. Face immediately recognized one of the men.

"You... you work for Johnny Turion."

"Worked," the man corrected. "Johnny is dead, no thanks to you and your friends."

"We saved a famous designer from being ruined. I'd say we did a bang-up job."

The man pulled a gun and pointed it at Face.

"You signed Johnny's death warrant. And you're going to pay."

"Please don't hurt him!" Rhonda shrieked as the second man held her back by her arms. "You promised me you wouldn't hurt him!"

Face used Rhonda's screaming as a distraction, and kicked the man holding him in between his legs. The big man dropped him, and Face whipped a gun out from the back of his jeans.

"Let her go."

The man holding Rhonda let her go, and Face grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to him. Turion's flunkie took a shot at Face, and got him in the arm. Face screamed in pain, but pulled Rhonda toward the door. He pulled it open with his good arm, and pulled her into the hallway.

Face and Rhonda ran down the stairs and outside. He pushed her into the Corvette, jumped in and drove off.

"Where are we going?"

"I have a friend that can help us. I can't take these guys on my own."

"You need a hospital! He shot you in the arm!"

"Oh, this? This is nothing. My friend can help. Can you trust me?"

Rhonda nodded as Face turned right and headed toward the location of Hannibal's latest film set. As he made his right, he noticed a black sedan turn right behind him. Suspecting he was being followed by Turion's ex-henchman, he made a series of left turns. Sure enough, the car followed him.

"Buckle your seat belt."

Rhonda did so as Face hit the gas and sped off to the right, in an attempt to lose the tail. He got back onto the main road and made a series of turns, deliberately weaving in and out of traffic. After twenty minutes of cat and mouse, Face finally lost the tail, and resumed his journey to Hannibal.

Hannibal was sitting at the table in his trailer, smoking a cigar. It was near 10 p.m., and he was exhausted. All he wanted to do was smoke a cigar and crawl into bed. Tomorrow was an early call, and he needed to be rested.

As he puffed contentedly on his cigar, he heard the screech of tires outside, and voices, one of which sounded familiar. He stood up just as someone started pounding on his door. He quickly went and opened it. There stood Face, leaning on the shoulders of a woman, bleeding from the shoulder.

"Face, what happened?"

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

Hannibal reached out and helped Face up into the trailer. Rhonda was on his other side. He lead his injured comrade into the tiny bedroom and helped him lie down on the bed. He retrieved a small bag from his makeshift night stand, and sat down next to Face on the bed. He looked up at Rhonda.

"You may want to wait over there, Miss-"

"Rhonda."

"Okay, Rhonda. You might not want to look."

Rhonda nodded and made her way back into the living area. Hannibal turned back to Face.

"What the hell happened?" he asked sharply as he began the task of extracting the bullet from Face's arm.

"When I got to Rhonda's place to pick her up, there were men-ahh- in her apartment. One of them used to work for Johnny Turion."

"Used to?"

Face hissed in pain, obviously trying not to shout. They didn't want to attract unwanted attention from outside.

"Turion is dead. His flunkie wants revenge. He used my-" Face stopped talking as excruciating pain ripped through his arm. Hannibal brought the bullet out with a pair of tweezers, and dropped it into the ash tray on his night table.

"He used my girlfriend as bait."

"Are you sure Rhonda isn't in on the whole thing?" Hannibal whispered.

"No... she was terrified. I could see it in her eyes."

Hannibal opened up the first aid kit and took out some gauze and bandages. He sanitized the wound with alcohol, and pressed gauze onto the wound and started to wrap it tightly with medical tape.

"Okay, I believe you. How did this guy know how to find you?"

"That's what I want to find out."

Hannibal took out some Ace bandage next, and wrapped him up.

"It'll be just the two of us, with Murdock on lockdown at the VA, and B.A. away visiting his Mother." He secured the bandage. "You should be fine now. We'll redress it later and check on the wound."

"Thanks, Hannibal." Face's eyes drifted toward the closed door. "What about Rhonda?"

"She stays with us. If you're wrong and she is involved, I don't want her to run back and tell this guy where to find you."

Face nodded.

"Where do we start?"

"We start by asking your girlfriend how she met this guy."

Face got up off the bed and went out ahead of Hannibal. Rhonda was sitting at the table, tears streaming down her face. He sat down next to her and put his good arm around her.

"It's going to be all right, Rhonda. I'm going to be just fine. I can't say the same for my Armani suit jacket."

She smiled and wiped her eyes.

"I just can't believe all of this is happening. I mean, one minute I'm doing my makeup, the next, there are men breaking in my door."

"You've never met those men before?"

"No, never."

"Did anyone happen to say a name?"

"No. I did hear the buzzer downstairs a few minutes before they broke in."

Hannibal sat down in the chair across from them.

"Someone in your building let them in."

"They probably pressed a random button to be let in. People do it all the time when they forget their key, so no one thinks twice about it."

"The question really is, how did they know to go to Rhonda's apartment tonight?" Face asked. Seconds later, the answer dawned on him. "They must have been following me."

"You never noticed a tail on you?"

"Maybe they didn't have to tail me. Oh my God."

"What, Templeton?" Rhonda asked.

"That means they've bugged me. Or my car."

Hannibal rose from his seat.

"They're probably waiting outside, or hiding out near your car. Where did you park?"

"Next to the Director's car. There's a street light above his parking spot." He looked at Hannibal. "Hannibal, I'm sorry. I can't believe I never caught on to this."

"It's not your fault, Face. You wouldn't have had reason to suspect a bug."

"Well, how do we get out of here?"

"They followed your car here, not mine."

"Yours? Are you still driving that old Buick Century?"

Hannibal grinned.

"Yep, and I'm parked in the lot on the other side of the building. They'll never know we left."

"Unless they're staking out your trailer."

"In that case," Hannibal turned and opened up his trunk. From it he took two rifles. He handed one over to Face, who took it quickly. Rhonda looked at him speculatively.

"Is there something you haven't told me about yourself, Templeton?"

"There's a lot, but I'll explain later, I promise."

"Okay."

Face stood up and held out his hand for hers. She took it and stood with him.

"Let's get out of here."

Hannibal went up to the door of his trailer, gun at the ready. He slowly opened it a crack and peeked out. No one was obviously visible in his line of sight. He opened the door a bit more, and peeked his head out. No one tried to take a shot at him. He pushed the door open all the way, and stepped outside. All remained quiet. He turned and nodded to Face.

"Ready?" he asked Rhonda. She nodded, and clasped his hand tightly. He led them quietly out of the trailer, and closed the door behind them. Hannibal signaled for them to follow him, and they quietly made their way toward the parking lot that the film crew was using to park their equipment trucks. Hannibal often parked there to avoid being seen leaving the set.

The old Buick was situated behind a large tractor trailer. Hannibal quietly opened up the doors, and Rhonda got into the back seat. Hannibal went to his trunk and took a couple of extra clips for the guns, and softly closed the trunk. He climbed into the driver's seat and started the car. As he eased up to the parking lot exit, a car came tearing around the street corner. Someone came out through the window, gun pointed at Hannibal's car.

"Rhonda, get down!" Face shouted as shots rained down on the Buick. Rhonda dove to the floor as Face rolled down his window and fired a few shots as Hannibal pealed out of the lot. The car kept behind them, and Face kept firing.

Hannibal swung around the corner and sped off as fast as the old Buick could go. He darted around some corners, until he finally lost the tail. Face pulled himself back into the car and put the gun on safety.

"Rhonda, are you all right?" he asked as he set down the gun near his feet. When she didn't respond, he turned around. "Rhonda?" His eyes traveled downward to the floor of the car, where he saw Rhonda, lying still, covered in blood. "No!"

Hannibal immediately made a U-turn and sped off toward the hospital as Face climbed into the backseat. He reached out and gently took Rhonda's pulse. To his relief, she was still alive, but barely.

"We have to get her to the hospital," Face said in a shaky voice.

"We're almost there, Face. She isn't going to die."

Face nodded at the pair of eyes reflecting in the rear view mirror.

"What are we going to tell them when we get there?"

"We were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. We were waiting at a stop light, and someone ran by with a gun and shot her."

"That's never going to work."

"It _will_ work, and you're going to pull yourself together, or we're going to be leaving that hospital in handcuffs."

Face nodded and looked down at his girlfriend. He'd never let a woman he'd been seeing get into the line of fire, for this very reason. If anyone was going to die doing what they did, it'd be him before he'd let an innocent person get killed.

The car screeched to a stop in front of the hospital, and Hannibal quickly shoved the guns under the seat and out of sight. Face stumbled out of the car and ran toward the ER doors. Two paramedics on a smoke break near the ambulance bay saw him running, and cut him off before he burst into the ER.

"What happened?" One of them asked as the other held Face by his shoulders.

"My-my girlfriend - she's been shot. We were waiting at a traffic light, and this man just pointed a gun and- I don't want to picture it anymore."

"Okay, where is she?"

"In the backseat. Please, hurry!"

The paramedics rushed to the car, followed by a frantic Face. Before he'd even caught up with them, one of them was running for a gurney. Within minutes they had her strapped in and rushed her into the hospital.

"I'm going with her, Hannibal."

"You can't go in there," Hannibal said, grabbing Face's arm. "The last thing we need is for you to get yourself arrested."

"They think I'm a frantic boyfriend. If I get into this car and take off with you, they'll know we pulled a fast one. I have to stay."

Hannibal looked into his Lieutenant's eyes. He was right.

"Okay. Go. I'll pull the car around the corner and wipe our prints, then bring it back. The cops will want to go over it for evidence. Too bad they won't find any," Hannibal said at a low whisper.

"All right. I'll meet you in the lobby."

Hannibal nodded and pulled away, and Face was alone outside the ER, covered in his girlfriend's blood. Face turned and trudged into the hospital.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

Face didn't have any trouble convincing the hospital staff of his story. He was lead to a surgical waiting area, while Rhonda was in surgery. There was no one else in the small waiting room, and Face was relieved. He sank into a chair and closed his eyes, hoping all of this was just a crazy dream, and that he'd wake up soon.

A click made Face's eyes snap open. He'd been sleeping for a half hour, and hadn't heard anyone else come into the room. The gun now pointed at his head was an obvious reminder that he'd let his guard down.

"Don't move or I'll splatter your brain all over this room."

"No you won't. If you pull that trigger, this room will be filled with people inside of ten seconds."

The gunman was quiet for a moment. Face spoke up before the gunman had a chance to.

"If we're going to do this, can we do it outside? I'd rather you kill me without attracting unwanted attention."

"Get up."

Face obliged, and he was flanked on either side and led out of the room. The gunman walked close behind Face, as not to alert the hospital staff that he had a gun in Face's back. The four men walked through the ER waiting room and back outside. There was a car waiting outside. Face was shoved into the back seat, followed by the gunman. The two "assistants" got into the front, and the car sped off.

The first thing that Hannibal noticed when he walked into the ER was that Face wasn't in the waiting room. He went up to the desk and smiled at the nurse.

"A friend of mine came in here not too long ago. His girlfriend was shot. I don't see him here in the waiting room."

The nurse suddenly had a distressed look on her face.

"Is something wrong, Ma'am?"

"Your friend is gone. I brought him to the OR waiting area, and he came out a half hour later with three other men, and they went out to the ER parking lot."

Hannibal leaned in, as to not alarm anyone else in the waiting area.

"Did you notice if any of the men had weapons?" he whispered.

The nurse gasped.

"You don't think-"

"It's possible."

"I'm calling the police."

She picked up the receiver next to her, and Hannibal put his hand on top of hers.

"What are you doing?"

"Ma'am, this might sound crazy, but please, don't call the police. My friend is going to be fine. Trust me."

The nurse looked into Hannibal's eyes, and after a long silence, she took her hand off the receiver.

"I have one condition. You bring him back here when you find him. For his girlfriend."

"I promise."

The nurse smiled at him, and he smiled back, thanked her and left the ER. He had to find Face before he ended up dead.

After what felt like hours of ominous, silent driving, the car finally stopped. Seconds later, the rear passenger door was yanked open, and someone grabbed Face by the collar and yanked him out of the car. The smell of salt water and fish told him they were somewhere near the docks.

_But which marina are we at?_

"Listen, can't we talk about this, guys?" Face attempted as he was pushed along toward a ramshackle building that looked like it had once been the office for the dock manager.

"There's nothing you can do to save yourself, Pretty Boy."

Face took the opportunity to take a swing at one of his captors, and clipped him on the chin. The man stumbled backward, and Face went for the next guy. Before he could get a swing in, the man punched him in the gut. Face dropped to his knees, holding his stomach. Two sets of hands hauled him to his feet, and dragged him into the old office building. The same hands shoved him down to his knees on the dirty floor of the old shack.

The door to the next room opened, and a man came out that Face immediately recognized.

"It's nice to finally meet the man behind the designs Johnny sent me."

Face's bravado started to seep out of him instantly.

_I'm not getting out of here alive._

Hannibal ran three blocks, to where he'd hidden the Buick. He had to figure out who these guys were, and where they took Face. He tumbled into the car and shakily put the keys into the ignition. Seconds later, he turned it off again and fell back into the seat as reality washed over him.

He had no idea where Face was, or who took him, and no viable leads to follow.

Hannibal suddenly thought of B.A. The Sergeant was always there to keep him from giving up, even when the plans he thought of went south.

There has to be something that'll help me find Face. I can't let him die.

Hannibal started the car and drove back to the hospital. He went back to the ER and convinced the nurse at the desk to let him into the OR waiting room. Being four in the morning, the room was empty, save for a man sleeping in the corner. Hannibal made a beeline for the man and shook his shoulder. The man awoke with a start.

"What happened? Is she out?"

"No, son, she isn't."

"Who the hell are you?"

"I need your help. A friend of mine was in here about an hour ago, and some guys joined him, and they left together."

"I was dozing off when they came in," the man recalled. "I heard someone say the name 'Jimmy.' "

"Did you see Jimmy's face?"

"No, I'm sorry."

Hannibal sighed.

"I appreciate your help. Get some rest."

"No problem."

The man resumed his position and dozed off. Hannibal sat down in one of the plush chairs, and scrubbed a hand over his face.

_What am I going to do?_

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

"Mr. Dubrio," Face breathed. The men pulled him to his feet and slammed him down into a chair, and proceeded to tie him to it.

"Leave us alone."

The men nodded and silently left the cabin, closing the door behind them.

"Can't we discuss this in a more civilized manner?" Face attempted weakly.

"You made a fool out of me. Your phony designs cost me nearly two million dollars." Dubrio pointed a gun at Face. "Before I kill you, I want to know why you did it."

Face chuckled nervously, trying to use his trademark smile to ease the tension. It wasn't working.

"Turion had my - a friend of mine - and her son - he was going to kill them."

"Rena... she's a pretty thing, isn't she?"

Face felt a pang of anger and fear in the pit of his stomach.

"Touch Rena and you'll regret it."

"You're funny, kid. I wish I didn't have to kill you."

"You don't... I could be helpful to you... I have an eye for numbers... I could do your books - "

"You must really think I'm stupid, don't you, Mr. Peck?"

"How-how did you-"

"Know your name? I know a lot more about you than that."

"What are you talking about?"

Dubrio leaned forward in his desk chair and picked up a file folder that had been sitting on the desk. He opened it, and Face recognized his military photograph on top.

"Lieutenant Templeton Peck, U.S. Army... you're on the run, from what your military jacket says."

"Everyone needs a scapegoat these days. Why not me?"

Dubrio paused, weapon trained on Face. Suddenly, he lowered it.

"I'm not going to kill you."

Face let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding.

"You're a member of the A-Team... well, it would be fitting that I turn you in, wouldn't it? The military will have their escaped prisoner, and you will be out of my way, permanently. It's the perfect arrangement, don't you think?"

"I'd rather you kill me," Face muttered, trying vainly to pull on his restraints.

Dubrio picked up the phone and dialed a number from the open file in front of him.

"May I speak to a Colonel Roderick Decker, please?"

"Hannibal, why didn't you call me sooner, man?" B.A. said as Hannibal moved over to the passenger seat to let him climb into the van.

"I thought Face and I had this covered."

"You fools messed with the mob. You better hope we find Face alive."

"God, I hope so."

"You got a plan?" B.A. asked as he started the van.

"The only person associated with Johnny Turion who would want Face dead is a Mr. Dubrio. The roll of film with Face's phony designs on it got sent to Dubrio instead of the real ones. Turion wound up dead because of it."

"Face is gonna be next, if we don't find him."

"I found Face's address book and called Rena. She gave me the scoop on Mr. Dubrio. His name is Giovanni Dubrio, and he's dangerous. He's got mafia connections all over the country."

"If we bust out Face, we gonna have nowhere to hide, Hannibal."

"No one is going to die, B.A. We'll get him out." Hannibal looked down at the map unfolded across his lap. "Rena said Mr. Dubrio owns a yacht, and he parks it at Midland Marina."

"We're there."

B.A. pushed down on the gas and headed toward their destination.

Face awoke to the smell of coffee. He almost smiled in contentment, until he opened his eyes and remembered where he was.

What's taking Decker so long? I should be in the stockade by now.

"Good Morning, Lieutenant." Mr. Dubrio was sitting at his desk, a steaming cup of coffee next to him, and a plate in front of him. Face couldn't see it, but he could smell eggs and bacon.

The door opened to Face's right, and one of the goons came in, holding a second cup of coffee. He set it down on the side table next to Face.

"I'm a gracious host, Lieutenant. I thought you might need a cup, so I asked Harold to bring an extra."

Face forced a smile.

"Harold is going to untie one of your arms. If you try to escape, I'll shoot you before you make it out the door. Are we understood?"

Face nodded.

"Good."

Face's left arm was freed in seconds, and he reached gratefully for the coffee.

"Your Colonel Decker should be arriving this morning to take you into custody."

"Great."

"Don't sound so ungrateful, Lieutenant Peck. Your body could be at the bottom of the ocean right now."

Face quietly took a sip of the coffee, which was, incidentally, the best coffee he'd ever tasted. Dubrio definitely had good taste.

A distant siren put Face on alert. He could recognize an MP siren anywhere. He had a sinking feeling that Hannibal wasn't going to find him before Decker got there.

_The only way I'm leaving here is in the back of Decker's car._

Knowing he was defeated, Face sipped his coffee quietly, and waited for Decker.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn't long before Decker and his backup had arrived and boarded the yacht. Decker grinned almost evilly as his men untied Face and prepared to handcuff him.

"You and I are going to have a talk, Peck, and you're going to tell me where Smith and Baracus are hiding."

"Listen, Colonel... I truly have no idea where they are at the present moment. Honestly."

"What would make you think I'd believe anything you say?" Decker growled.

"Can I at least make a phone call before you handcuff me?"

"So you can call Smith and warn him?"

"I told you, I don't know where he is! I-I need to call Riverside Hospital. My girlfriend - she was badly injured in an accident, and I-"

"Oh for crying out loud, make your call. You have five minutes, Peck."

Face nodded, and Mr. Dubrio silently turned his desk phone around. Face quickly dialed the hospital's phone number.

"Hi, my name is Al Peck... my girlfriend was brought into the ER early this morning and -yes, Rhonda Billingsley. How is she? Will she be all right?"

Face suddenly felt the urge to sit down as the nurse gave him some news. Decker grabbed the chair he'd been sitting in and brought it underneath Face just as his body gave way.

"When?" Face asked, his voice cracked and full of pain. "O-okay. Thank you."

He hung up the phone and looked up at Decker, who, for once, had a bit of concern written on his face.

"You can arrest me now, Decker. I'm through running."

"What happened, Peck?" He asked, semi-concerned, and semi-hoping he didn't have to carry Peck's sorry butt out to the squad car.

"None of your business, Decker. Are you going to arrest me, or what?"

Decker sighed and took out his handcuffs. Face got to his feet, slowly, and allowed Decker to arrest him. He didn't want to run anymore. His life was what got Rhonda killed, and if he was still a free man, he couldn't live with himself.

When they arrived at the Marina, B.A. hid the van out of sight and they continued inside on foot. It wasn't a big Marina by any means, and it didn't take long for them to find the yacht - and the MP cars surrounding it on the dock.

"What do we do?" B.A. whispered as they took cover behind a large crate.

Hannibal looked up as three figures appeared at the top of the gangplank. One of them appeared to be in handcuffs.

"Decker's got Face. That slime Dubrio must have called the MPs on him."

"It's better than gettin' killed," B.A. pointed out.

"True, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna let them lock Face away while we're running around free."

"You better have a plan, Hannibal. We ain't got much time."

"Oh, I've got a plan." Hannibal grinned, cigar between his teeth.

Face allowed himself to be led down the gangplank, toward the MP car. Decker made sure that Face made it all the way down, and put the prisoner in his own vehicle. Face looked up for a split second, and could have sworn he saw the glint of binoculars across the dock, near a couple of large crates.

_It has to be Hannibal._

Face shook his head ever so slightly, to indicate to the Colonel to stand down on this one, as he was put into the back of the MP car. Hopefully Hannibal had seen his signal through the binoculars, and wouldn't do anything stupid.

Decker climbed into the driver's seat, and a Lieutenant with a very large gun climbed into the passenger side.

"Don't think about trying anything, Peck. Lieutenant Brand will blow you away before you're out of the car."

Face nodded silently. Decker started the car with a throaty chuckle, and pulled away with the prisoner.

No one saw B.A.'s van pull out behind them and start following at a distance.

The drive was quiet for the first 5 miles. Finally, unnerved by the silence, Decker spoke up.

"What's the matter, Peck? No smart remarks?"

"Leave me alone, Decker."

"I didn't expect you to come quietly. It's almost like you wanted me to arrest you."

"I said shut the hell up! I don't want to talk to you or anyone else right now!"

"Have it your way, Lieutenant."

Decker took a right and headed toward the highway.

B.A. hung back far enough where Decker would not notice the van was there. His worry increased with every mile they followed and saw no attempt from Face to escape custody.

"Hannibal, he ain't gonna bust out of that car on his own."

"You're right, B.A. We're going to have to get him out of there."

"How we gonna get close? Decker knows what my van look like."

"However we do it, we'd better do it before Decker gets on the highway. It's too risky."

"Agreed."

"We're going to have to go in shooting."

"Hannibal, if they shoot _one_ hole in my van-"

"I won't let anything happen to your van."

"You on the jazz, man... I hate it when you on the jazz."

"Get close to that MP car," Hannibal said as he readied his weapon. "I'm going to shoot a tire out. When Decker runs off the road, you hold off the MPs while I get Face."

"This better work. I'm not going back to Bragg."

"It'll work. Trust me."

"Trustin' you always gets us in trouble."

Hannibal grinned and rolled down the window. He climbed up so his upper half was sticking out, and fired several rounds at Decker's car. He grinned when Decker tried to swerve, and kept firing. It didn't take him long to hit a tire, and Decker lost control and went off the road - and right into a tree.

"Pull over, B.A.!" Hannibal shouted as he climbed back into the car. B.A. pulled up next to the car, and they both jumped out and hurried over. Decker's passenger was unconscious, but breathing steadily. Decker himself was groaning in the front seat, semi-conscious, with a gash on his forehead.

Hannibal opened up the back door and saw Face sitting there dejectedly, conscious and uninjured.

"Come on."

Face shook Hannibal's grip on his arm.

"Leave me."

"Have you lost your mind? Decker is going to throw you in jail and toss away the key!"

"Let him."

Hannibal roughly grabbed Face's arm with both hands and practically dragged him from the car.

"I'm not gonna let you rot in jail. Now come on. We're getting out of here." He dragged Face toward the van, grip firm on his arm. "B.A.!"

B.A. ran to the van and jumped in as Hannibal opened the side door and shoved Face toward it.

"Get in the van."

Face complied, and climbed up into the van. He sank into the seat as Hannibal slammed the door shut, and climbed into the front seat and grabbed the van's mobile phone off the receiver to phone 911 for Decker. B.A. pealed out and went back the way they came.

**TBC...**


	6. Chapter 6

B.A. drove for about an hour, before pulling off in a secluded, cheap-looking motel. While Hannibal was in the office buying off the desk clerk, B.A. turned around to look at Face. His friend looked completely defeated and emotionally drained.

"What's wrong, Face?" he asked.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You know Hannibal's gonna make you talk anyway, after what we had to do to bust you loose from Decker."

"I'm fine."

"Right, and Murdock ain't no crazy fool. You not fine."

The passenger door opened, and Hannibal climbed in.

"Room 205, around back. The desk clerk never saw us."

B.A. nodded and drove around back, and parked the van. Hannibal turned around and got a look at his Lieutenant.

The kid looked terrible.

"Face, why don't you go inside and get some shut eye. B.A. and I can unload what we need from the van."

Face shook his head in response.

"It's not up for debate, Lieutenant. We've all had a long night." Hannibal tossed him the keys, and Face caught them expertly. "Go on. That's an order."

Face rolled his eyes and got out of the van. Without looking back, he walked ahead to the room and unlocked the door. The room was clean, and had two beds and a sorry-looking easy chair. Face dropped the keys on the small table next to the door, and just stood there.

He could hear Hannibal and B.A. outside, arguing over what to bring inside, and what to leave in the van. He knew his friends meant well, but in his heart he knew what he deserved, and it was to be in a jail cell, not a crappy motel.

The van door slammed, and Face knew his friends would be coming inside momentarily. He took the far bed and lay down on top of the covers, facing the wall. He hadn't realized how tired he actually was until he sank down onto the bed. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

"Face ain't all right, Hannibal," B.A. said quietly as he and Hannibal took duffel bags out of the back of the van.

"I told you what happened to him last night when I picked you up this morning. It's been a long night."

B.A. dropped a second duffel on the ground by his feet, and reached in for a bag of weapons, concealed to look like an extra large gym bag.

"He wanted Decker to lock him up, man. That ain't like him at all. Something else is wrong."

"Let him sleep for now. I'll talk to him later."

While B.A. locked up the van, Hannibal picked up some of the bags and headed ahead of him into the room. He was relieved to see that Face was asleep, and that there were two beds. He set the bags down and sat down at the small table by the window. From one of his bags, he took out a folder with a movie script tucked into it. He sat down at the table and started reading it over, as Face slept soundly on the bed behind him.

It was nearly evening when Face rolled over and sat up in bed. To his left, B.A. slept soundly in the other bed. Hannibal wasn't around. Face got up and slipped on his suit jacket. He needed some air.

As soon as the motel room door closed, Face took out a cigar and lit up. He walked around the back of the van as he took a drag. He leaned on the bumper as he blew his smoke, and closed his eyes. His last moments with Rhonda ran through his mind as if they were imprinted on the back of his eyelids. He saw her lying in the back of the Buick, covered in blood, her eyes frozen in fear.

He took another drag of his cigar, and inhaled deeply. He'd started smoking in 'Nam, and hadn't taken a liking to cigars until he'd met Hannibal.

_The Reverend Mother always said that smoking could kill you... maybe I should keep smoking, then._

Face ignored the footsteps coming up on his left, until the person was standing right next to him.

"You're awake."

"Yep." Face blew more smoke and looked down at his feet as he puffed on his cigar. He instinctively took a cigar from his coat and handed it to Hannibal, who lit up and leaned on the bumper next to him.

"You feeling any better?"

"Not really."

"Want to talk about it?"

Face shook his head slowly.

Hannibal took a contented puff of his cigar.

"I'm sorry about Rhonda."

Face's gaze darted upward, and met Hannibal's eyes.

"How did you know?"

"I just got off the phone with the hospital. I promised the head nurse I'd check in, so she wouldn't call the cops on us."

Face sighed heavily.

"She'd be alive right now, if it weren't for me."

"What happened to Rhonda isn't your fault," Hannibal said quickly.

"The hell it isn't!" Face shoved off the bumper and took a couple of steps away from Hannibal.

"Face-"

"She's dead because of me!" Face threw his spent cigar to the pavement.

"Stop-"

"Stop what? Blaming myself? You said yourself once that we're on the run, and women can't be number one in our lives. I should never have asked her out in the first place. She might still be alive if I'd just kept walking past that department store window. I-"

Face stopped talking and leaned on the van for support. He could feel pain rising in his chest, and he was fighting to keep it inside. He was a soldier, and he'd be damned if he'd show any kind of emotion.

Hannibal's hand on his shoulder threw all of that out the window.

"It's okay to grieve for her, Face. I know you cared about her a lot."

Face nodded as a couple of tears slipped down his cheeks. Hannibal squeezed his shoulder supportively.

"I'm going to go bring B.A. his coffee. I'll come back out in a few minutes, okay?"

Face nodded again. He waited until Hannibal was inside before letting the wall down, and he dropped his head and let the tears fall.

**TBC...**


	7. Chapter 7

B.A. was awake and digging through his duffel bag when Hannibal came into the motel room with a tray of coffees. B.A. took one of the cups gratefully, and took a long swig.

"How's Face?"

"He's hurting. He's going to need some time to recover from this."

"What happened?" B.A. asked, concerned.

"The girl he was supposed to have a date with last night... she got caught in the crossfire during the car chase with Dubrio's goons."

B.A. brought his eyes to the dirty motel room window. He saw his friend leaning on the bumper of the van, looking dejectedly at the ground.

"Maybe we should go to ground, Hannibal."

"I was thinking the same thing-"

Hannibal stopped talking and became alert to a noise outside the door. He motioned for B.A. to keep quiet, and slipped to the window. He looked out, and saw two men converging on Face. The Lieutenant was holding his own, for the time being.

"Looks like Dubrio found out Face escaped."

Hannibal took out his .9 mm and aimed carefully. He fired two shots at the pavement, by the attackers' feet. The shots startled Face's attackers, allowing the Lieutenant to get a couple of good punches in, and for B.A. to go outside to Face's aide. B.A. threw a solid punch to the larger of the two attackers, sending him to the ground. Face threw one last punch to the other, sending him down next to his friend.

"You all right, Face?" B.A. asked.

"Yeah, I'm good."

Hannibal hurried out, a duffel bag in each hand.

"Let's get the hell out of here!"

B.A. hurried around to the driver's side and started the van, while Face threw open the side door and climbed in. Hannibal threw him the duffels and climbed in behind him. B.A. pealed out of the parking lot and away from the motel before Dubrio's henchmen could get off the pavement.

Face leaned forward in his seat.

"What do we do now?"

"We're going to have to go to ground," Hannibal said grimly.

"Hannibal, we can't hide from a man like Giovanni Dubrio. He'll find us," Face said. "We're never going to be safe from him."

"We'll just have to make it a little harder to find us, then."

"Hannibal, you don't understand! The man had my military jacket - my entire file! If he can get his hands on classified military files, he'll be able to find us wherever we go!"

"He had your military file? Face, why didn't you tell me this before!"

"Excuse me for grieving over my dead girlfriend, _Colonel__._"

Hannibal let his eyes flutter closed for a moment as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Okay. B.A., you're not gonna like this, but we're going to have to lose the van for a little while."

"What!"

"They know what your van looks like. We need a less conspicuous vehicle - one that Dubrio knows isn't associated with any one of us."

"Well we can't go back to L.A. now," Face pointed out. "He'll find us in a minute."

"B.A., head North toward the mountains."

"Okay, Hannibal."

Face sighed and leaned back against the seat. All of this was his fault, and there was no way he could ever make this right again. Somehow, he had to get away from his friends and turn himself over to Dubrio . It was the only way.

B.A. drove for two hours. The drive was mostly quiet, aside from Hannibal giving driving directions from a road map laid out across his lap. After a lot of grumbling on B.A.'s part, they pulled off near the edge of a forest that began at the base of a mountain. B.A. pulled the van off the road and killed the engine.

"Okay, from here, we go on foot," Hannibal said. "We'll have to find a place we can hide out for a while."

"He'll still find us, Hannibal," Face said. "He's not stupid."

"We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it, now won't we?"

"This is ridiculous," Face shot back. "You never should have busted me loose from Decker. After what happened to Rhonda, I deserve to be locked up!"

Face snatched up his pack from the dirt and started to walk away from his friends.

"Face!" Hannibal shouted.

Face didn't turn around.

Hannibal exchanged a quick glance with B.A.

"Lieutenant Peck!"

_That_ made Face stop in his tracks.

_Damn you, Hannibal. _

"Lieutenant, front and center!" Hannibal ordered militantly, knowing Face couldn't obey a direct order. He watched Face contemplate his next move, and finally turn around and come back. He stopped in front of Hannibal, and stared at his feet.

"Face, look at me."

Face shook his head slowly. Hannibal reached out with a hand and gently pushed Face's chin up, so the Lieutenant was forced to lock eyes with him.

"None of this is your fault. It never was, and never will be. All you did was save a woman and her son from a mobster."

"How is it _not _my fault?" Face said angrily. "My car was bugged, and I was being followed for God knows how long, and I never knew it! To make things worse, I let myself get involved with a woman, and she ends up dead because some mobster is out for revenge against me for ruining his business. Please, Hannibal, tell me again how much this _isn't _my fault."

Hannibal studied his young Lieutenant. He had a different look in his eyes than he did back at the motel. It was almost... penitent.

"Face... we all make mistakes. Letting Decker lock you up in Leavenworth or letting Dubrio turn you into shark food is not the way to atone for them. Do you think Rhonda would want to you to do that to yourself? Or Rina?"

Face hesitated, and brought his eyes back to Hannibal.

"No. They wouldn't." A small smile crept across his face. "Rina would tell me I'm being a fool."

"You _is_ a fool," B.A. chimed in. "You got a problem, Face, you got me and Hannibal here to help you. We're your friends, and we always got your back."

"Just like I was supposed to have Rhonda's back... and I let her die."

"Face, you're missing the point of this entire conversation!"

Face shot Hannibal a condescending look, and bent down to pick up his backpack. He was done here. Hannibal reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Listen to me, Lieutenant. If you want revenge against whoever shot Rhonda, I'll help you find him and give it to him. Right now, we all have to stay together. Going off on your own isn't going to save B.A. and me from getting shot. If we do this as a Team, everyone stays alive. Okay?"

Face looked into the Colonel's eyes. Every ounce of Hannibal was militant. He was indirectly giving Face an order. To date, Face had never disobeyed an order from Hannibal.

"Okay."

Hannibal let his arm go.

"Good man." He turned to B.A., who was nearly finished securing camping supplies to his own pack. "Let's get moving. B.A. You take the rear, and I'll take point."

B.A. nodded and put the heavy backpack on. Face and Hannibal followed suit, and with guns in hand, they headed off into the forest.

**TBC...**


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's Note: **__This chapter will have some heavy Face angst in it. I promise, after this chapter, that things will get better. And that no one is permanently dead. :)_

**Chapter 8**

"Hannibal, I have to stop," Face whined. They had been walking for hours, without a break, and Face could feel his body rebelling against the humidity. The forecasted high for that day was in the mid 90s, and it wasn't a dry heat by any means.

Hannibal stopped and turned around to have a look at Face. The kid was leaning against a tree, to stop himself from collapsing. Hannibal wiped his sweat soaked forehead with the back of his hand.

"Okay, let's make camp."

Face let himself collapse by the tree, letting his pack slide to the ground. He pulled a bottle of water out of his pack and started chugging. B.A. came up from the rear.

"About time you stopped, man," he said, dropping his pack with a thud.

"We'll set up camp here. It'll be dark soon," Hannibal said, tearing open his own water bottle.

B.A. set to work setting up the tent he'd been toting on the top of his pack. Face tried to get up to help, but found himself unable to move. He hadn't felt this physically exhausted in many years, and it concerned him.

"Face?"

Hannibal's voice seemed far away, but the Colonel in fact was hovering over him, concerned.

Are you all right, Face?"

"I'll be fine... I think I'm getting old."

Hannibal chuckled.

"We all are, kid."

Face pushed himself to his feet, despite his exhaustion, and helped B.A. set up their camping equipment, while Hannibal stood guard. When they'd finished, Hannibal came over and joined them.

"B.A., take over guard."

"Right."

Before Hannibal could speak again, Face spoke up.

"Hannibal, I'm not in the mood for another heart-to-heart, so please, leave it alone, will you?"

"Relax, Face, I wasn't planning on it."

"Oh. Um..."

"Why don't you get some rest? B.A. and I can cover guard duty for now. You can cover the next shift."

Rather than argue with Hannibal, Face nodded and climbed into the tent. It was a one-man tent. They never all slept at once, when they were on alert. This time, more than one person was needed for guard duty. Who knew how many men Dubrio would deploy to find them, and Hannibal wanted to take no chances with the Team's safety. They couldn't live in the woods forever, but for now, it would do as a temporary home.

Face listened to the sound of Hannibal moving around outside the tent, and let himself drift into a much needed sleep.

Shooting jerked Face out of a restless sleep, and he immediately grabbed for the pistol sitting next to him.

They found us... how did they find us?

Face hovered by the zipped-up opening to the tent. He heard shouting, and the gunfire ceased.

_"Drop your weapons! Now!" _

The voice did not belong to B.A. or Hannibal, which meant that they were outnumbered. Face heard the sound of weapons hitting dirt, and then the ruffle of clothing.

_"Tell us where the other one is." _

It was an accented voice that spoke this time, different from the first one. Face detected the accent to be a British one. Neither B.A. nor Hannibal responded to the question. Suddenly, a shadow loomed right in front of the tent, and the zipper was ripped open. A semi-automatic weapon was instantly pointed at the tip of Face's nose.

"Drop it."

Face immediately complied, and he was yanked out of the tent by his arm and shoved forward, toward where Hannibal and B.A. stood. There were seven men surrounding them, all with automatic weapons.

"Do you have any more men hiding that we don't know about?"

Hannibal shook his head slowly.

"Good."

The accented man, whom Face deemed the leader of the group, snapped his fingers, and two sets of hands pulled Face away from his friends.

"You are all going to die, but this one," he said, indicating Face, who was struggling against his captors "he comes with me. Mr. Dubrio wants to deal with him personally."

"Leave them alone!" Face shouted as he was dragged away from the rest of the group. "They had nothing to do with this! Let them go!"

"Shut up, or I'll shoot you right here," said the man on his left.

Face tried in vain to escape from his captors, and watched in despair as they got farther and farther from the campsite, and his friends fell out of his field of vision. As they came to a hiking path, where an all-terrain jeep was parked, two gunshots ripped through the serene silence of the forest.

"No!" Face shouted in anguish. He tried once more, with all of his strength, to free himself, but the butt of a gun knocked him out before he was successful.

Face woke up in the back of a van, in complete darkness. He tried to move, and found that his hands were cuffed behind his back. They hadn't bothered to tie his feet, but he was sure that, had he not had a blindfold on, that there was another person in the back with him, holding some kind of weapon on him. Rather than try to sit up, he lay there. Why bother trying to escape? He had nothing out there to go back to - no family, no friends, no nothing.

He might as well let Dubrio kill him.

He felt the van slow down, and come to a stop. Wherever they were going, they'd clearly arrived. The shift in the light he could see slipping through the bottom of his blindfold told him that someone had opened up the back doors of the van. He felt himself being yanked out and to his feet.

Two flights of stairs and three doors later, Face felt himself being pushed down into a chair. The blindfold was unceremoniously removed, and he had to squint as his eyes were flooded with light. When his vision finally cleared, he found that he was in a simply decorated study, seated in a leather armchair. Across from him, sipping a gin and tonic, sat Giovanni Dubrio .

"I have a proposition for you, Mr. Peck."

**TBC... **


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Dubrio set down his drink on the side table, and sat forward in his chair, focusing all of his attention on the broken ex-Lieutenant in front of him.

"You have skill, Mr. Peck. I grossly underestimated your potential when I turned you over to the police."

"What is it that you want from me? Haven't you taken enough already?" Face said, his voice breaking with every other word. "Just shoot me and get it over with. I'm through running."

"I don't want to kill you, Mr. Peck. I want to hire you."

"Excuse me?" Face leaned forward, and looked Dubrio straight in the eye. "You killed my girlfriend. You chased me down, and you killed two of my best friends. Why in the hell would I want to work for you!"

"I believe you have another friend... who lives at the VA Hospital."

Face nearly leapt from his chair in a rage. Two sets of hands held him down in the chair.

"Leave him alone!" he shouted angrily.

"You work for me, Mr. Peck, and your friend will be safe and sound, and none the wiser. That's my deal. Take it or leave it."

Face stopped thrashing against the arms holding him down, and tried to calm himself down. Murdock was all he had left in the world... if anything were to happen to him...

He looked into Dubrio's eyes. They were full of malicious intent. Face knew right then that he had no choice.

"Okay."

"Okay, what, Mr. Peck?"

"You win. I'll work for you."

Dubrio smiled contentedly as the broken man in front of him sank back into the chair limply, defeated. He'd achieved exactly what he wanted... and he always got what he wanted.

_three months later... _

Face was perched on the top of a building, in downtown L.A. His target was below, talking to a man in a business suit and tie, holding a leather briefcase. Face's task was to take out the target, so his partner, hiding below, could collect the briefcase. Face watched carefully through the scope of his rifle, waiting for a clear shot. It was night, but still hot. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and stung his eyes. He blinked rapidly and kept his eyes on the target.

_"Peck!" _

The voice barking into his radio startled him. It was Sam Edwards, the man assigned to complete the operation with him.

"Yeah."

_"Are you going to take the shot sometime this century?" _

"It takes time to get the perfect shot, Edwards. Do you want to get arrested?"

_"Obviously not, asshole." _

"Then shut up and let me do this."

Edwards started shouting at him into the radio, and Face turned it down considerably. He focused on the target in his scope, and finally, he had the shot. The guy in the suit had turned the corner, and the target was alone in the alleyway. Face didn't hesitate. He pulled the trigger, and the target dropped instantly. He immediately grabbed the radio and turned it back up.

"Go now."

_"About time!" _

"Just get the briefcase and meet me around the block. I want to get the hell out of here."

Face packed up the sniper rifle carefully in its carrying case, and policed his brass before slipping quietly from the roof. He took the stairs all the way down to the ground floor, and slipped out the service entrance. As he came toward the corner to meet Edwards, he saw flashing red lights dancing on the side of the building to his right.

_Shit... _

Face backed up toward the entrance he'd just come out of, when he felt someone coming up behind him.

"Drop the case right now and put your hands up."

_Damn it to hell. _

Face slowly bent to set down the case. Just before it touched the ground, he dropped it and pulled his pistol. The cop took a shot at him, and missed, allowing Face to turn and shoot him in the leg. The officer went down, and Face grabbed his case and ran. He switched his radio channel and held it up to his mouth as he ran.

"We've been made! The cops have Edwards! I need help!"

_"Where are you?" _

"Coming up on 7th street, from the alleyway across from Belluci's Bistro!"

_"Someone will be there to pick you up in two minutes." _

"Hurry up!"

Face skidded to a halt at the end of the alley and waited. As promised, a black Taurus pulled up. Face hurried over as the trunk popped open. He threw the rifle case into the trunk, and scrambled into the backseat. He breathed a sigh of relief as the car sped away.

"What the hell happened!" The driver shouted at him.

"Edwards got made, is what happened."

"Did you put the silencer on like I told you?"

"Of course! I'm not a moron, Mancuso."

"Dubrio is pissed. He heard the whole thing on the radio."

"Crap. He's going to shoot me this time for sure."

"You better come up with a good explanation for why you don't have the briefcase, or he'll shoot both of us."

Face nodded at the pair of brown eyes staring him down in the rear view mirror, and gazed out the window as they passed 74th Street. His gaze fell on a sleeping bum as they waited at the traffic light, and his breath caught in his throat.

_That looks a hell of a lot like Jack Daniels. Could it be? _

The light changed, and Mancuso punched it. They sped off, leaving the sleeping bum to his slumber.

"Who is going to tell me exactly what the hell happened out there?"

Dubrio was fuming, as Mancuso had promised. He was pacing back and forth as Face and Mancuso stood next to each other in Dubrio's office.

Face glanced at Mancuso, and back at Dubrio.

"I took too long to take the shot. I wanted to get it right."

"Because you waited, my best man is in jail, and my briefcase is in an evidence locker!"

Face felt two sets of hands grab him from behind. He let himself be restrained as Dubrio came around the desk with a handgun.

"Give me one good reason not to shoot you where you stand."

"You hired me because of my skill, Mr. Dubrio. Part of being a sniper is making sure the shot is perfect enough so it's not traced back to the shooter. That's what I was doing. I'm sorry I screwed up the mission, but I'm not going to sacrifice my freedom for speed."

Dubrio looked at Face for a moment, and tucked the gun back into his suit jacket.

"I won't kill you... this time. Don't let it happen again."

"I understand."

Dubrio looked up at one of the men holding Face.

"Get him out of my sight."

The men took him to his room and locked him in. When he wasn't on a mission, Dubrio insisted he be locked in his living quarters. He insisted it was for Face's own safety, but Face knew he was a prisoner, and he accepted it.

As he sat on the bed and took off his shoes, his thoughts turned to the bum he saw on 74th Street. It sure as hell looked like Hannibal's wine-o, but it couldn't be. Hannibal was dead... long dead.

Or maybe he wasn't. Could it be possible that the gunshots he heard were faked? Could Hannibal and B.A. still be alive, and in hiding?

There was only one way to find out.

Face reached across the bed to the nightstand, and picked up the phone. He'd learned a long time ago that Dubrio tapped the phone in his room, and the tap didn't turn on until after 8 p.m. He had about five minutes before he'd be monitored.

_"Helloooooo!" _

Face smiled.

_God, it's good to hear his voice. _

"Murdock. It's-"

_"Faceman?" _

"It's me."

_"This has to be some kind of joke. Who is this, really?" _

"It's really me, Murdock. Templeton Peck."

_"If you're really Faceman, then what's my first name?" _

"Harvey."

_"Where the hell have you been? I thought you were dead!" _

"I only have a few minutes to explain..."

_"I'm all ears, Muchacho." _

Face poured out everything that had happened over the past three and a half months, his voice cracking with every sentence that came out of his mouth. When he was finished, Murdock was silent for a moment, and Face thought he might've hung up the phone.

_"Why didn't you call me before?" _

"I didn't want you to end up in the crossfire... because of me. Please forgive me, Murdock... I didn't ask for any of this to happen."

_"I believe you. Look... we have to find a way to get you out of there. I'll go down and check out the wine-o in that alley that you saw. I hope to God that it's really Hannibal... that he isn't... " _

"Me too." Face looked at his watch. Hed had about 15 seconds. "I have to go. I'll be in touch."

Face slammed the phone down just in time for the little green light on the monitor next to it to kick on. He sighed in relief,and sat down on the bed.

_I hope Murdock comes through... _

**TBC... **


	10. Chapter 10

Murdock walked quietly along toward 73rd street. He was dressed in a pair of old pants, a dirty shirt he'd pulled from his laundry, and a ripped jacket his neighbor at the VA had discarded in the trash. He added his father's old fedora to the outfit to make his bum disguise look genuine. In his right hand, he held a paper bag, filled to make it look like he had a bottle of something in it.

As he came upon 73rd and Lockner, he started a drunken stagger, and turned into the alley Face had told him about. It was empty, save for an overflowing garbage dumpster by the back door of the restaurant on the corner - and a bum, sleeping in between two large bags of garbage. The bum had an overgrown, gray beard, and hair that looked like it hadn't been washed in probably months. He was wearing no shoes, and had ratty slacks on that were torn at the ankle hem. An old trench coat hid the rest of his face from view as he slept.

Taking a deep breath, and hoping to God that it really _was_ Hannibal , Murdock staggered over and slid down the wall next to the sleeping figure. He hit the concrete with a grunt. The man next to him shifted slightly, and pushed himself into a sitting position.

"Who the hell are you?" he said in a drunken, raspy voice.

"Jose," Murdock replied, waving his paper bag haphazardly in the air. He stuck it out toward his new companion. "Shot of tequila?"

The bum narrowed his blue eyes at Murdock, but took the bag nonetheless. He opened up the paper lunch bag, and looked down into it. There was no tequila. Instead, he found a bunch of balled up socks, and on top of them, sat a note.

_Made contact with mutual friend. Needs help. Code 5 Alpha 2_

__The bum looked up at Murdock, and stared right into his eyes. After a few seconds, his hard expression turned into a look of relief. 

"Murdock?" he whispered.

Murdock nodded, holding back from enveloping the Colonel in a hug. If anyone were watching them, it had to look like two bums sharing a drink.

"Glad to find you here, Jack! Where ya been?" Murdock slurred.

"Here an' thereere ," Hannibal said. He reached for another paper bag, one with a real bottle inside it, and took a long drink. Murdock furrowed his brow in worry.

_I don't think Hannibal is faking drunk this time._

"Jack... let's find some chow... I got war stories for ya!" Murdock said with gusto, almost falling over as he flailed his arms for dramatic effect. Hannibal looked directly at him, and Murdock could tell that his friend was hurting. Whatever happened three months ago was taking its toll on Hannibal, and Murdock had to save him.

Murdock clumsily got to his feet, and motioned for "Jack" to let him be helped up. Hannibal glared at his friend, but let Murdock help him up. The two of them staggered to the other end of the alley, appearing to hold each other up. As soon as they were clear, and Murdock was sure they weren't followed, he dropped his drunken charade and held his really drunk friend upright, as he led them toward an old pickup truck.

"Come on, Colonel, work with me here... you're not exactly light, you know."

"Murdoccckkkk..."

Murdock pulled open the passenger door of the truck, and wrestled Hannibal inside and put the seat belt on him. He hurried to the driver's side and jumped in. He pulled onto the nearest road and started driving away from downtown L.A.

"What'r doin' here... Murdockkkkkk," Hannibal slurred, as he tilted into the window.

"First we find a place to sober you up, and then we can talk," Murdock said authoritatively. He'd been in this situation many times, with many friends, but _never _with Hannibal. The Colonel was never _this _irresponsible.

Murdock drove into the outskirts of Los Angeles and found a ragged-looking motel that was the perfect hideout, while Hannibal regained his wits. He switched the trench coat to a nicer looking sport jacket that he'd borrowed from Face ages ago, and fixed the fedora on his head before dashing inside to book a room. When he came back out, he had the key to the most secluded room in the place, and the teenage desk clerk was convinced that Murdock was from the FBI, and that no one could know that he was ever here.

Murdock pulled around to the room and parked the truck quickly. He rushed around and pulled the passenger door open just in time for Hannibal to nearly collapse on top of him.

"Great... just wonderful, Hannibal. Come on, let's get you inside."

He waited until he thought his friend was finished, and helped him out of the seat belt. He helped Hannibal get out of the truck, and led him into the room. When they got inside, He quickly got his friend over to the only bed in the room. Ten minutes later, Hannibal was passed out under the covers, and Murdock was sitting tiredly in the ratty armchair on the other side of the room.

_How am I going to fix this?_

Hannibal's hands immediately went to his aching head as he opened his eyes. A groan escaped his mouth as he attempted to sit up. He realized then that he wasn't on the street, where he'd gone to sleep. He was in a motel room. He pushed the covers off of himself and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Who had brought him here?

The outside door to the room opened, and his eyes went wide in surprise when Murdock came through, carrying a tray with two coffees, and a bag that smelled like breakfast.

"You're awake."

"Yeah."

Murdock handed him a cup of coffee, which he took gratefully.

"How did you find me?" Hannibal asked as he reached for the duffel bag that Murdock had brought in.

"Face called me."

Hannibal's head snapped up to meet Murdock's eyes.

"Face? He's alive? Where is he? _How_ is he?

"One question at a time, Muchacho. He's, well... he's been with Dubrio for the past three months."

"He's being kept prisoner?"

"Not exactly."

Hannibal dug through the bag and came out with a disposable razor and a can of shaving cream.

"What do you mean, _not exactly_, Murdock?"

"He's on Dubrio's payroll."

"He's _what?" _

"You can talk to Face about it after we get him out of there. What I wanna know is what in God's name _happened _three months ago? No one on this team has their head on straight - Face is working for the mob - you've become a _real _wine-o, and B.A. is God knows where - I'm just lost, Colonel."

"Sit down, Murdock. I'll explain."

Murdock handed him his breakfast, and Hannibal told his story while they ate.

~_ 3 months earlier ~_

___Hannibal paced back and forth at the edge of camp, his rifle in hand. He scanned the area with his eyes, expecting any kind of move from the enemy. The sun had almost completely set, and darkness was setting in. The forest was thick, and he was having trouble seeing more than 10 feet in front of him. _

_Face had been sleeping for a couple of hours. The kid needed the rest. They all did, really, but he cared about Face first and foremost. They'd seen a lot of blood and death, but nothing could compare to what it feels to see a loved one violently taken from one's life, as Face had experienced . _

_Hannibal turned to pace to the left, and a split second later, a bullet whizzed by his head and hit a tree. He dropped to his knees, pointing his rifle in the direction he thought the bullet had come from. He grabbed for the radio at his hip, but before he could lay a hand on it, he felt the pressure of a rifle being pushed into the back of his head. _

_"Get up." _

_Hannibal silently did as asked, and got to his feet. As he did, he attempted to swing around and hit his attacker. He hit the man in his stomach, and while the man stumbled backward, Hannibal tried to run toward the camp to warn B.A. As he neared the edge of the clearing, automatic gunfire rained bullets across his path in the dirt, and he stopped. He looked up, and his face fell as he saw B.A. with two guns held on him, in the middle of the clearing. Hannibal felt a gun in his back, this time, and then a hand shoving him forward. _

_"Get over there, old man." _

_Hannibal chuckled as he joined B.A. _

_"Where is the other one?" _

_B.A. exchanged looks with Hannibal as a new member of the group stepped forward and made a beeline for the zipped up tent. He pulled the zipper open, and Hannibal saw Face, crouched by the opening, with a pistol in his hand. Face was dragged out of the tent by his shirt, and thrown unceremoniously to the ground at Hannibal's feet. _

_"Do you have any more men hiding out here?" _

_"No," was Hannibal's quick reply. _

_The man with the British accent, clearly the leader, pulled Face to his feet and wrenched an arm behind his back. _

_"This one comes with us." _

_"No! Don't kill them!" Face shouted with anguish in his voice. Hannibal nodded to him reassuringly as he was dragged away fighting, but Face didn't seem to notice it. When Face was out of visual range, Hannibal made his move. He swept the feet of the man behind him, and in one move had his weapon. _

_"Everyone drop your guns, now!" he pointed the gun at the fallen man. "He'll be dead before you get a shot at me." _

_Everyone dropped their weapons to the dirt. Hannibal exchanged a look with B.A. He wasn't sure if the Sergeant was totally with him on what he was about to do next, but he would do it nonetheless. Hannibal pointed the gun straight ahead and fired at the man standing in front of them. One shot and he was down. He quickly turned and shot the man behind them. _

_All was silent. _

_B.A. stared at Hannibal, shocked. _

_"Hannibal... you just-" _

_"Yeah." _

_"Man... you lost your mind! You killed them in cold blood!" _

_"If I hadn't, they'd have gone back to Dubrio and told him we're still alive. We have more time to disappear now." _

_"What about Face? Dubrio gonna kill him!" _

_"Face will be fine... you and me need to get gone, and fast." _

_"You lost it, man... I don't know you anymore." _

_Hannibal and B.A. silently packed up the campsite and headed back to where B.A. had hidden his van. _

Present..

"Why didn't you go after Face?" Murdock asked angrily. "Dubrio could've killed him, and you didn't even go after him!"

"Murdock-"

"You once told me that we _never _leave a man behind... ever. You went against your own rules, Colonel."

"It's been eating at me for months... why do you think I turned into Jack Daniels?"

Murdock smiled.

"I thought I was the insane one on this team."

Hannibal chuckled.

"OK - we need to find the Big Guy, and we all need to go and get Faceman away from Dubrio . Agreed?"

"Yeah."

Murdock drank the last bit of his coffee, and got up to start cleaning up their stuff.

"Murdock?"

"Yeah, Colonel?"

"Thanks, you know, for-"

"What are friends for?"

Hannibal smiled as he picked up the duffel bag.

"Let's go find B.A."

**TBC ...**


	11. Chapter 11

Pounding on his bedroom door roused Face from a sound sleep. The clock by his bed showed 6:00 AM.

"Peck! Get your ass up!"

Face groaned and threw the covers off of him.

"All right! I'm up!" he shouted back.

"You have ten minutes to get your ass down to the shooting range," the voice shouted back through the door.

"Yes Sir," Face acknowledged. Receding footsteps told him that he was alone again. He quickly made his bed, complete with hospital corners, and dressed quickly. He opened the top drawer to his night table, and took out his sidearm and some extra ammo before leaving his room.

He made his way outside and across an acre of land to the shooting range. Shortly after he agreed to work for Dubrio, it'd been drilled into him that every man in Dubrio's employ was expected to put in an hour at the shooting range per day. Face's scheduled time, to his chagrin, was early in the morning.

He found his usual spot unoccupied, and set his gun down in front of him while he set up a target and sent it to the end of the line. He expertly checked and loaded the gun, and without hesitation emptied the clip into his target. He flipped the switch to bring the target back to him. All of his shots were in the fatal zone of the target. He switched out the targets and repeated. Each target he brought back was near perfect. The target practice bored him, but he kept at it. Shooting that target was an emotional release that Face was eternally grateful for. Doing it every day for the past three months had helped him come to terms with his current situation, and learn to accept it.

As he brought his last target back, he heard someone approaching behind him. Seconds later, Dubrio appeared at his side.

"Good Morning, Mr. Peck."

Face acknowledge him with a nod as he continued to straighten up his area. Dubrio reached out as Face's last target arrived at the end of the pulley, and he took it down to review it.

"This is very impressive, Mr. Peck." Dubrio sifted through the other targets Face had laid down next to him at his station. "You haven't missed a single shot. I haven't seen this kind of accuracy from one of my men in a very long time."

Face finally looked up at Dubrio.

"Thank you, Mr. Dubrio."

Dubrio rolled up the targets.

"I'd like you to join me for breakfast today, Mr. Peck. I want to discuss something with you."

Face was thrown off, but schooled his features and nodded.

"Okay."

Face followed Dubrio over to a golf cart. They climbed in and headed back toward the house. Dubrio parked his golf cart near the entrance to a private lanai. Face followed him through the gate. There was a quaint bistro table set up under an umbrella. The patio was surrounded by beautiful flowers, perfectly landscaped.

"Have a seat. There's hot coffee in the carafe on the table."

Face sat down silently and poured himself a cup of coffee. Dubrio did the same, and sat back contentedly in his chair.

"It's been a little over three months since you were recruited, Mr. Peck. Considering the circumstances of your recruitment, I was concerned that I'd have a more difficult time in training you."

"You had my friends killed, Dubrio... how did you expect me to react?"

"Please, let me finish, Mr. Peck, and then you can say what you would like."

Face nodded.

"You've proven yourself to be a valuable asset to me over the past few months. You perform every mission handed to you with military precision, and to date have never disobeyed an order. I have a proposal for you, if you are willing."

"What's that?" Face asked, sipping his coffee and eyeing Dubrio suspiciously.

"I want you on my personal security detail, Mr. Peck."

Face set down his coffee and looked at Dubrio.

"You almost shot me a week ago for screwing up a mission. Why would you want me on your detail?"

"I spoke to Mr. Mancuso last night. He told me that the police were following our contact, and that you were simply in the wrong place, at the wrong time."

"But Edwards-"

"Mr. Edwards is no longer in my employ. He won't be getting out of jail for a very long time, I'm afraid."

Face furrowed his brow in worry.

"Relax, Mr. Peck. I assure you last night is forgotten."

Face nodded.

"I need you on my personal detail... you're the best man I've got."

Face was hesitant to answer. On the one hand, he missed the freedom he had away from this place. On the other hand, the stability he had working for Dubrio was the only thing keeping him from going off the deep end. There would be no one waiting for him out there. He had no incentive to leave this place. He looked up at Dubrio with emotionless eyes.

"I accept."

Murdock hated recon. In 'Nam, he'd always push it on lower ranking officers than himself, just to get out of it. This time, he actually wanted to do it... because they were doing recon on Face.

Hannibal devised a plan that involved a good amount of recon on Dubrio's house and surrounding grounds. If they were going to get Face out, the plan had to be executed perfectly. There was no room for error in this operation.

Murdock made his way through the thick woods surrounding Dubrio's property, and found himself staring at Dubrio's private patio. He was crouched in between two thick honeysuckle bushes, watching with a pair of binoculars. Dubrio had left, and when he returned, Face was with him. It had been the first time he'd seen his friend all week. Murdock studied the expression on his friend's face, and couldn't help but feel that something was different about him.

_It's almost as if he isn't the same person... _

He watched Face sit down and help himself to coffee. He and Dubrio appeared to be having a casual conversation.

He doesn't look miserable to me... what the hell is going on here?

Murdock tried to read Dubrio's lips, but he couldn't discern what exactly was being said. There was a pause, and then Dubrio said something that Murdock could clearly read.

"I need you on my security detail, Mr. Peck."

Face sat there for a moment, unmoving, his expression unchanging.

He'd never do it... not in a million years.

Face set down his coffee and held out a hand for Dubrio to shake.

"I accept."

Murdock nearly dropped his binoculars. Had he really just witnessed Face agree to be Dubrio's personal security detail? Was he out of his ever loving mind?

The two-way radio made a soft noise in his pocket. It was his signal to regroup with Hannibal. He backed out slowly and made his way back through the woods. He met up with Hannibal about a half-mile away.

"What'd you find, Captain?"

"I saw Face," Murdock replied, trying not to sound angry.

"Is he all right? What happened?"

"He's more than all right... he was having coffee with Dubrio, on a private patio."

"He what?"

Murdock scrubbed a hand across his face.

"I read his lips, Colonel. He just agreed to be on Dubrio's personal security detail."

Hannibal felt his anger rise. How could Face do something like this? Did he want to get out of there?

"Maybe he doesn't want to be saved," Hannibal suddenly said as realization washed over him. "He probably still thinks B.A. and I are dead, and that you didn't find me."

"He's got to know that I've got no way of contacting him," Murdock said. "He's got to know I wouldn't have forgotten him."

Hannibal put a gentle hand on Murdock's shoulder.

"Face is a complicated person. He's never really had any one person in his life who he could count on not to abandon him. When he first came under my command in Vietnam, he nearly made me wring his neck with his attitude and insubordination."

"You never reported him for any of that, Colonel."

"Reporting him to the General wouldn't have stopped him. What Face needs is someone to push back, to get in his face and challenge him."

"What did you do?" Murdock asked.

"It was right after that recon assignment, 50 miles south of Da Nang..."

**Vietnam, 1970...**

As soon as the helo touched the ground, Face was out of it, and limping toward the barracks. Hannibal was right behind him, and he was pissed.

"Lieutenant!"

Face didn't stop... he just wanted to get away from the Colonel. They'd been on recon for over a month before they ran into a VC patrol. They'd lost three men, and Face was shot in the leg trying to play hero. Thankfully, Murdock swept in with the helo at the last minute, and Hannibal hauled his ass into the chopper. He'd gotten an earful from the Colonel on the chopper, and he was sick and tired of the man's constant browbeating.

Face pushed open the door to the barracks and limped inside. He threw his dirty gear on the floor next to his bunk, and sank down, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Lieutenant Peck."

The Colonel's voice was loud and stern, and right in front of him.

"What the hell were you thinking out there? Do you have some kind of insane death wish?"

Face suddenly leapt to his feet - a bad idea with a bum leg - to face his CO.

"I was trying to save what was left of our squad! Excuse me for doing my god damned job!"

"Drop and give me fifty, Lieutenant!"

"Screw off!"

Face tried to push past him, but Hannibal grabbed him roughly by the shirt.

"You either give me fifty right now, or the next place your ass is going is to the General, and you better believe he'll come down harder on your ass than me. Pick your poison, Lieutenant."

Face shoved away from Hannibal, and slowly lowered himself to the ground and started in on his push-ups.

"So what's your deal, Lieutenant Peck," Hannibal asked as Face struggled through his push-ups. Doing fifty push-ups was nothing - unless you'd been shot an hour before. Face was clearly in pain, and Hannibal could clearly tell. "Why did you jump out in front of 20 Charlies with automatic weapons?"

"They ambushed us!" Face shouted in between pain-filled push-ups. "They killed Diaz, Barnes and Stoltz, and they were gunning for you and me next... I wasn't about to let them get me without a fight."

"Fighting is one thing, Lieutenant... throwing yourself in front of twenty automatic weapons is bordering insanity."

Face was slowing down... he still had fifteen push-ups to go, and he'd be damned if he'd quit before he'd finished all of them. He hadn't counted on Hannibal's foot pressing down on his back.

"You can stop now."

"I still have - ten more to go, Sir."

"You're in pain... you don't have to-"

"Let me finish, damn it!"

Hannibal took his foot away from Face's back, and watched him struggle through the last 10 push-ups. When he finished the last one, he collapsed to the floor, shaking and sweating bullets. Hannibal got down on one knee next to him.

"You don't have to prove anything to me, Kid. I've had faith in you since the day you joined my Unit, and that'll never change. I'll have your back, no matter what happens."

Face looked up at his CO. The anger had melted away from his features, and in its place was a scared little boy.

"Come on, Kid. Let's get you to the Medic to fix up that leg before it gets infected."

Face smiled and allowed his CO to help him off the floor.

Murdock chuckled as Hannibal finished his antecdote.

"Chap wasn't too happy that you made Face do fifty push-ups with a bullet wound."

"He lived... and so did Face."

"We gotta get him back, Hannibal. We have to let him know some way that we haven't abandoned him."

"We'll find a way, Murdock... I promise."

TBC...


	12. Chapter 12

B.A. slid out from underneath the Chevy Nova he'd been fixing the brakes on, and wiped his hands on his coveralls. It was 2:30 - his assigned lunch time - and he was famished. He nodded to the head mechanic and headed to the locker room to grab his wallet.

He strolled down the street toward a burger joint, and picked up a hamburger and fries to go. His usual routine took him to the park across from the shop where he'd taken a job. He found his usual bench and sat down, digging into his lunch.

He'd taken the job at Sully's Auto Shop under the name Jerome Jackson - a name Face had given him once as a cover for one of his scams. He hated the name at first, even scowled at it, but it eventually grew on him. After what'd happened months earlier, B.A. decided it was time to separate himself from the team - especially Hannibal - for a little while. He found his van and repainted it (temporarily - he would fix her again soon), and left L.A. immediately. He settled in San Diego and never looked back.

Today, his thoughts wandered back to his friends. He wondered what had happened to Hannibal, and how Murdock was doing. As he finished his burger and took a sip of soda, his thoughts rested on Face. He wondered what his friend's fate was after he'd been dragged away. He'd prayed that his friend hadn't been killed, but he didn't want to think about what was happening to him if Dubrio decided to keep him alive.

B.A. finished off the last of his fries and started across the street again. He had work to finish.

After work, B.A. took the bus for a few miles, and got off in a different part of town. He cut down a side alley between two buildings, and slipped into an old warehouse, locking the door behind him. He went down the corridor and out to the main floor, where his van was parked. He slid open her side door and climbed in. He'd set up a sleeping bag for himself in the back, and right now it looked very inviting. He'd worked all day and night on that Chevy Nova, so the owner could pick her up tomorrow morning, and his limbs and back ached. He climbed into the van and settled down into bed. Just as he was about to drift off, the car phone in the van started to ring.

Who in the hell could that be... no one has this number...

He climbed up front and answered the phone.

"Who's there!" he shouted gruffly.

_"B.A."_

"Hannibal?"

_"It's me. How-"_

"Why you callin' me, man? I told you I'd find you when I was ready. You got no right callin' me after what you did to those men!"

_"Listen, B.A. … it's about Face..."_

"He's not-"

_"No. He isn't. He's with Dubrio."_

A lump formed in his throat. Any number of things could be happening to his friend - could have already happened - and he had run off to San Diego, like a damned fool.

"What happened, Hannibal?"

_"He's working for Dubrio... from what Murdock saw, it looks like Face just made Dubrio's personal security detail."_

"What!"

_"Face doesn't know that you and I are alive, B.A. He managed to call Murdock a few weeks ago, but Murdock hasn't been able to reach him since. If I know Face, he probably feels abandoned and alone."_

"What can we do? If we bust in there, Dubrio gonna kill us for sure."

_"Murdock and I are still working on that... but we need your help, B.A."_

B.A. sat there for a moment, thinking about what Hannibal said. While he was still furious with Hannibal after what had gone down, he had to put it aside. There would always be time to repair things with Hannibal, but right now, one of the best friend's he'd ever had needed saving, and that took first priority over everything.

"Okay, Hannibal. Where are you at?"

B.A. was on the road about twenty minutes after he hung up with Hannibal, on his way back to L.A. They agreed on a secluded meeting place - a hunting cabin that was betrothed to Hannibal after the death of his Uncle. Hannibal had been paying the bills on the down low for years, and he was the only one that knew of the place, and where it was located, so it was the perfect hiding place.

As he drove along the highway, B.A. conjured the images of his friends, and where they'd be sitting, were they in the van with him. He imagined Hannibal in the passenger seat next to him, puffing on a cigar. He envisioned Murdock in the seat behind him, being a fool, as usual. He glanced up into his rearview mirror, and imagined Face looking back at him from his seat, grinning like a fool.

He knew Face had always been reckless and stupid, but he was also passionate when it came to something he truly cared about. From what Hannibal had told him, that was how he'd gotten into this trouble in the first place. Rena had to be a very special woman for Face to put himself through all of this pain and suffering.

B.A. smiled as a memory from Vietnam floated through his head. Face had been a reckless asshole when Hannibal first brought him onto their team, but B.A. managed to flush out the Lieutenant's true character...

_-Vietnam, 1968 -_

_It was nearly 2 AM when B.A. entered the busy Cantina. Hannibal had sent him to look for Face. The kid had only been on their team for a week, and he was already insubordinate to the point that B.A. wanted to kill him before Hannibal got a chance to throw him in the brig._

_On this particular night, Face had snuck out of barracks against Hannibal's orders. B.A. had tailed him to the Cantina, and sat down in a corner table to observe Face. He'd been sneaking off all week, and no one knew where he went. Hannibal found out that Face had been sneaking off, and ordered B.A. to follow him and bring him back._

_Face was across the bar, sitting with two other soldiers. They each had a beer in front of them, but none of them were touched. One of the soldiers looked pissed, and the guy next to him looked about ready to deck someone. Face was talking with his hands, frantically gesturing, like he was trying to explain something. Suddenly, one of the soldiers jumped up, knocking over the table, and grabbed Face by the shirt. B.A. watched as the guy reared back his fist and punched the Lieutenant square in the face._

_B.A. got to his feet and pushed his way through the crowd that was forming around the three men. He could hear the sounds of fists hitting flesh, and grunts of pain from the recipient of the blows. When he finally broke through, Face was on the ground, and the two soldiers were beating the crap out of him._

_Acting quickly and without thinking, B.A. grabbed one of them by the uniform and threw him about four feet. The soldier landed on top of a table, breaking it into pieces. He went for the other one, prying him off of Face, and threw a punch that knocked him out instantly._

_As he kneeled to get a look at his friend, he heard the voice of the one person that didn't need to see what just happened._

_"Baracus! What the hell just happened here!" Colonel Decker shouted as he pushed through the crowd._

_B.A. got to his feet._

_"What happened is that those two jumped him, and were beating the tar out of him. If I hadn't stopped 'em, they might have killed him!"_

_"Colonel,"_

_Decker and B.A. looked over to see Face pulling himself to his feet._

_"You want to explain this, Peck?"_

_Face shook his head._

_"You either explain it to me now, or explain it to General Morrison when I drop you off at his office. Pick your poison."_

_Face slowly reached into the pocket of his uniform and produced a tiny baggie with a small amount of white powder in it._

_"This was about drugs?" B.A. said first, before Decker got a chance to start shouting. Face nodded weakly._

_"This is serious trouble, Peck," Decker said calmly, but sternly. "I should have you Court Martial-ed for this."_

_Face nodded, looking down at his boots._

_"The two of you, come with me."_

_B.A. held Face up as they followed Decker outside. When they arrived at Decker's jeep, Decker turned back to them._

_"Peck, you have one chance - just one - to talk me out of throwing your ass in the brig and bringing you up on charges."_

_Face looked up at Decker._

_"I needed money. I-I got a letter, from the place I grew up... my Father is dying. I've," he looked down again in shame. "I've been selling to pay for his medical expenses."_

_Decker sighed and rubbed a hand over his face._

_"Okay. I won't throw you in jail … this time. If I catch you dealing again for any reason, I won't be so generous next time. Are we clear, Lieutenant?"_

_"Yes, Sir."_

_"Good. Help me get him in the jeep, Baracus. He's going to need medical attention."_

_"Yes, Sir."_

_Decker drove them back to their camp, and left Face and B.A. at the medical tent. Chap, the Medic, was pissed, to say the least._

_"You have to stay out of trouble, Face," he said. "I don't want to see you come back here in a body bag."_

_Face nodded._

_"Hold still! I can't stitch your head if you're moving!"_

_Chap finished fixing him up, and he walked with B.A. toward their barracks._

_"I'm sorry about your Father," B.A. said softly._

_Face nodded his acknowledgement._

_"Listen... if you need help..."_

_Face stopped and whipped around to face B.A._

_"I don't need anyone's charity!"_

_"You'd rather sell drugs and risk gettin' killed?"_

_"What else am I supposed to do!" he shouted. "The Army doesn't pay me shit! I have to make up the difference somehow!"_

_"What would they do if you wound up in jail? Do you think your Father would want you to go to jail for him?"_

_Face stood there silently, his chest heaving with anger. B.A. could tell he was formulating a response._

_"I - he's not really my father... I grew up in an Orphanage. He's the Priest that took me in." Face sighed and looked down at his boots. "I don't know what to do... I'm just, lost."_

_"You not alone, man... we all got people we tryin' to help back home, and we all want to do more than we can. Sellin' drugs ain't the way to do it."_

_"I'm sorry I got you into that, B.A. You almost went to jail because of me."_

_"Forget about it. If you do that again, I'll drag you to the Brig myself, sucka!"_

_"I understand."_

_"Lieutenant Peck! Front and Center! On the double!"_

_Face and B.A. looked up to see Hannibal standing outside the barracks, arms crossed._

_"Damn it... Decker must have called him."_

_"Remember what I said."_

_Face nodded, and they headed over to Hannibal to face the music._

B.A. smiled at the memory. Hannibal had chewed both of them out for the fighting. Face had taken complete responsibility for it, and took the punishment that Hannibal doled out. He'd kept his word to B.A. after that day, and never touched or sold drugs again.

He hit the city limits and pushed down on the gas pedal. The faster he got to Hannibal's cabin, the faster they could make a plan to save Face. He didn't abandon him in Vietnam, and he wasn't about to abandon him now.

**TBC...**


	13. Chapter 13

**_Author's Note: _**_It has taken me a long time to find the inspiration to continue this story. I feel drained with every chapter I write, and I'm ready for the story to take a turn and be happy again - which will be happening soon. We're getting closer, though! Thank you all for sticking with me and for waiting so long for the next chapter._

Chapter 13

B.A. arrived at Hannibal's cabin by morning. He went inside as soon as he got there. Hannibal and Murdock were sitting at the small kitchen table, papers and maps strewn about.

"It's good to see you, Big Guy!" Murdock said. B.A. simply nodded and pulled up a chair.

"Do we have a plan yet?" He asked. The tone of his voice was cold – it increased the tension in the room in triplicate.

Hannibal cleared his throat.

"Murdock and I have been doing recon. It seems to us that Face has adjusted to life on Dubrio's payroll. He thinks we're dead, and that he has nothing to live for outside of that place. The way I see it, one of us has to get in there and find him. We have to let him know that B.A. and I are alive, and hope that's enough to make him want to get out."

"We can't go bustin' him out of there half-cocked; Dubrio will find us and kill us all," B.A. pointed out.

"I realize that. There's only one way to get Face out, and that is to bring Dubrio down from the _inside_."

"With Face on his security detail, we can get all the evidence we need," Murdock said.

"Right. So... who's going in?" Hannibal asked.

No one jumped at the task... if they were caught, it would surely mean a death sentence.

"I'll go, Hannibal," Murdock finally said. "It'd be better for the plan if Dubrio still thinks you two are dead."

"Okay." Hannibal said. "As soon as it gets dark, Murdock is going in."

~_That evening... 8:00 PM ~_

Face trudged tiredly into his room and locked the door behind him. It had been two weeks since Face joined Dubrio's personal security detail. He and two other associates were responsible for Dubrio's personal safety, which meant that they never left his side during waking hours. He'd taken his responsibility quite seriously, and Dubrio was impressed with him.

Tonight was Face's night off, but he didn't feel much like celebrating. Running a hand over his tired face, he sat down on the bed and pulled open the bottom drawer of his nightstand. From it he pulled a bottle of gin, and a glass. Normally he wasn't allowed to have alcohol in his room, but he'd won Dubrio over enough to earn the privilege. He poured himself a generous amount and put the bottle back in the drawer.

The gin felt good as it slid down his throat. He hadn't partaken since before his friends died. Gin was something he would share with Hannibal, after a tough case got them down. Drinking it without him felt wrong.

A slight noise outside his window put Face on alert. He set down his glass and picked up his gun. He slowly made his way over to the window, and peeked out, gun at the ready.

He threw open the window when he saw the source of the noise. Murdock was hanging from the trellis outside Face's window.

"Murdock?" Face said in a loud whisper. "How the hell did you get in without getting yourself shot?"

"It wasn't easy. I don't have much time, so listen. That bum... you were right. Hannibal is alive. B.A. too."

Face had to put his hand on the windowsill to keep himself steady.

"Face?"

"They're really alive?"

"Do you think I'd risk my life to see you if they weren't?"

"I—I can't believe this."

"Believe it. They're alive, and they want to get you out of this place."

"If they were alive all this time, why didn't they try to get me out of here sooner?" Face asked, a bit of anger in his voice.

"That's not a story for me to tell. Listen... we have a plan to get you out. We can't just bust in here and take you, for obvious reasons. Hannibal thinks the only way for you to be truly free is to take Dubrio down from the inside."

"You want me to work against him."

"Right, Muchacho."

"If he finds me out, he'll shoot me on sight and you'll probably never find my body. Is that what you all want?"

"No... but it's the only plan we've got."

Face recalled the last four and a half months in his mind. He'd been so broken, that he took a job offer from a mobster. He felt that was all he deserved. He thought his friends were killed because of him. For him to find out that Hannibal and B.A. were still alive, and that they had waited until now to try and bust him out... what the hell kind of friends were they?

Footsteps could be heard approaching Face's door.

"You have to get out of here. Someone's coming."

"I need to know you're on board with the plan."

"I need time to think, Murdock. Give me a few days. I'll contact you."

His doorknob shook, as if someone were trying to open it. Then, a fist pounded on his door.

"Peck! Open the door!"

"Get out of here, before you get shot."

Murdock slipped down the trellis without another word, and Face quickly closed and locked his window. He hurried across the room and unlocked his door. It flew open before he could put his hand on the knob, and he was face-to-face with Vaughn, a fellow associate. One of Vaughn's jobs was to perform a bed check, and to wake everyone up in the morning, and when it was necessary.

"Lights out at ten o'clock, Peck."

"I know that, Vaughn. Must you remind me every night?"

Vaughn's features softened a bit.

"Listen... If I don't do this, and someone tries to run away from here, I'll get shot right along with them for letting it happen. I don't know about you, but I'd rather not end up as fertilizer on Dubrio's back lawn."

"Good point. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Just get your ass to bed. I'll be back at ten for final bed check."

Face nodded, and Vaughn continued down the hall. He closed the door, sat down on the bed and poured himself another glass of gin. Now that he was alone again, he needed to think about what Murdock had told him.

Murdock slipped behind the bushes and over the wall without being seen, for a wonder. As soon as his feet hit the ground on the other side of the wall, he ran through the woods as fast as his legs could carry him, until he arrived at the pick-up point Hannibal had arranged. B.A. was waiting for him in an inconspicuous sedan. He slipped into the passenger side and they sped off.

As soon as they got back to the cabin, Hannibal rounded on him.

"Did you find him? What did he say? How does he look?"

"One question at a time, Colonel! I didn't have much time, but I told him you two are alive, and I told him about the plan."

"What did he say, Fool?" B.A. asked impatiently.

"He's mad... he asked me why you guys didn't bust him out sooner. I-I don't know if he's going to go along with the plan, guys. He told me he'd contact us with an answer."

"How is he gonna contact us when he around Dubrio all day?"

"We're going to have to follow Dubrio," Hannibal said. "It's not going to be easy, but it's the only way to keep tabs on Face."

"He know what we look like, Hannibal," B.A. said.

"We're going to have to disguise ourselves. B.A., do you still have-"

"Yeah, all your actin' stuff is still in the van. Didn't feel right to throw it away."

A small smile briefly ghosted across Hannibal's features, but he quickly suppressed it.

"All right, men, let's get some rest. Tomorrow is only the beginning."

They all retired for the night, knowing they probably wouldn't get much sleep anyway. The entire plan rested on Face's shoulders, and everyone was worried about what choice he would make.

**TBC...**


End file.
